Chapter 4

The next morning, I walked past the study with my suitcase. The door wasn't fully closed.

From inside came Olivia's low, muffled laugh. Her computer was on a video call. Dylan, still in his pajamas, was lounging against his headboard, holding up a copy of the wedding vows.

"Liv, this part you wrote is way too formal," he said. "'Ethan, thank you for seven years by my side.'" He read it out loud, then chuckled. "Sounds like a company memo."

Olivia laughed too. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."

Dylan rested his chin on his hand, watching her. "You could write something like, 'You make me feel as light as spring.' Isn't that more romantic?"

Olivia paused for a few seconds, her voice dropping. "That sounds more like you."

The video went quiet for a moment.

Then Dylan asked, softly, "Are you sure you want to write that for Ethan?"

Olivia didn't answer right away. Finally, she said, "It doesn't really matter who I'm reading it to at the wedding. I'll just pretend I'm saying it to you."

I stood outside the door, feeling something slice open inside my chest.

I had secretly written three pages of vows for her. Revised them over and over. Cut the lines that felt too corny and kept only the most honest ones.

I'd once asked Olivia, "Should we write our vows together?"

She'd said, "That kind of formality isn't necessary."

Turns out it wasn't unnecessary—it was just unnecessary with me.

Dylan suddenly leaned closer to the screen, his voice soft. "Come here a second."

Olivia frowned. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He just pressed a gentle kiss to his camera lens—a ridiculous, ambiguous gesture.

Olivia didn't pull away. She paused for a few seconds, then let out a sigh. "Dylan. Don't do that anymore. I'm getting married soon."

Dylan dropped his gaze, his voice turning pitiful. "I know. That's why I wanted to be a little selfish one last time before you do."

Olivia didn't scold him. Her silence felt like permission.

A cold chill crept through my fingers.

If she truly felt he'd crossed a line, why hadn't she ended the call immediately?

Dylan quickly flipped to the design for the wedding photo wall. "Do you really have to put up all your couple photos at the wedding? I think it might hurt a little, seeing how happy you used to be together."

Olivia looked at the screen, hesitated for a few seconds. Then she said, "Then take them down. Ethan's obedient—he won't make a fuss."

My eyes stung so badly I could barely see.

That photo wall was the part I'd treasured most. Our first snowfall together in seven years. Our first trip, her hand in mine. The cake she'd made for my birthday with her own hands. I'd spent ages picking out every single photo because I believed they were proof of our love.

But now, because Dylan said it made him uncomfortable, Olivia erased them without a second thought.

All those moments I'd held dear for seven years.

I've learned that when heartbreak reaches its peak, the pain in your chest goes numb. All that's left is a hollow, bone-deep emptiness.

I turned calmly and walked away with my suitcase.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from the wedding planner.

[Mr. Duggan, Miss Clayman just confirmed the removal of the photo wall. Also, the vows have been revised with Dylan's input. Are you still certain you want to cancel the wedding?]

I stared at the screen, then smiled faintly. I typed back: [Yes.]

A cold draft blew in from the end of the hallway. I pulled my suitcase behind me, step by step.

Olivia deleted our seven-year photo wall with a single sentence. So I left Olivia—and those seven years—behind me.

As I was about to board the plane, the cancellation confirmation finally reached Olivia's phone. She immediately called the wedding planner, her voice sharp. "What happened?"

The planner sounded even more shocked than she was. "Mr. Duggan canceled it himself. He said he's moving to Ilyseland for work and probably won't be coming back. Miss Clayman, did you not know?"